Minutes to Midnight
by Emerald Embers
Summary: Counting down to zero; it was inevitable, really. Uriel/Castiel


As he dies, Uriel has no thoughts. He has no chance to think.

There is light, there is burning, and there is an end.

.

An hour before Uriel dies, he turns the sword over and over in his hands, contemplating what he might have to do. His work in converting his brothers and sisters has largely been successful so far, but Castiel's soul is relatively unscathed in comparison with theirs; that simplicity lends him a depth of faith Uriel is concerned about challenging.

The sword is a threat more than anything else. He'll beat sense into Castiel if he has to; it would be easy enough to subdue his brother. Castiel's a poor fighter, aware of himself and his opponent but not his surroundings. He isn't used to human eyes; isn't used to one method of perception.

But he does not wish to kill Castiel, not if it can be avoided. It's been tiresome to work through his brethren, and Castiel _needs_ the conversion. Their 'father', whoever he might be, has no love for them. The demons wish to see them dead. If any humans bar the Winchesters caught onto the new presence amongst them, it's likely they would be no different.

All an angel has is his brethren. And Lucifer's strength would be enough to protect them.

He'll tell Castiel he needs him on his side, but it's a lie. Castiel is Uriel's weakness. He has no need for him; but he wants him there.

.

A week before Uriel dies, Castiel's fingers thread between his and cling tight for dear life as they move together on the bed. It's a human ritual, should be unnecessary except for the rush of adrenaline or something similar through his veins every time he's brushed skin with Castiel either deliberately or by accident. He knows full well Castiel will have felt the same when he's been with either Winchester, and if he's to want this, Uriel will be damned if anyone else takes it from him. After sharing the same bed for weeks without acting, it's strangely inevitable.

Castiel keeps trying to talk and stuttering, too close to this body, too infected by Dean's humanity, and Uriel frees a hand so he can press his thumb between lips too eager to speak. Castiel quietens at that, his tongue resting light against the pad of Uriel's thumb but not moving, and from then on the only sounds are the movement of skin on skin and Castiel's strangled cry as he comes.

.

A week and a day before Uriel dies, Castiel meets him at a truck stop, both of them wearing their vessels as agreed, and they talk of the seals they have saved and lost. It is hard for Uriel to keep a straight face each time he lies about the little mistakes allowing a seal he was protecting to break; and harder each time he listens to Castiel's distress over a failure of his own. Uriel wonders when he'll have to tell Castiel the truth - wonders if Castiel will be able to understand his actions.

They are both tired, the coffee thin and weak and far from enough to stimulate human minds into full activity, and this perhaps accounts for both the lack of surprise and lack of reaction in him when Castiel shifts up from resting on his shoulder to press a kiss to his lips.

Wide blue eyes look startlingly childlike from this angle, and he wonders when his brother became such an innocent; when he lost his own innocence. Castiel requires protection.

He strokes a hand through Castiel's hair for comfort he knows he should not need, and no one thinks to look at or clean that booth until long after the angels have taken their leave.

.

A month before Uriel dies, he watches Castiel as Castiel watches Dean. His brother hovers over Dean's body without knowing what draws him there. For all that Castiel was built to watch and to fight, he displays signs of weakness, traits humans mistake for angelic. He is merciful, compassionate; or tries to be. He contemplates his orders for hours, days, trying to justify them against his belief of who and what God is.

When Castiel returns to their hotel room, Uriel is quick to put him to bed that they may both be rested by morning. Human bodies tire regardless of who wears them, and by the time Uriel divests Castiel of his shoes and socks, his eyes are already drifting shut.

Uriel expects to fall asleep just as quickly, but when he lies down next to Castiel, he is startled by his brother raising a hand to his face and stroking it before sliding to his chest. "I believe I may love Dean as I ought to love my neighbour," Castiel murmurs, voice sleep-soft and more honest than it ought to be. "As I know I love you."

Uriel stiffens and narrows his eyes but Castiel falls asleep heedlessly. Castiel's words are infuriating, evidence of his brother's naivety.

Castiel loves like he believes God is the generous benefactor spoken of in the New Testament.

.

An eternity before Uriel dies, he wasn't, and now is. No angel is truly born; they just... are. He is told God willed it, and is handed the two tools an angel needs; all they should ever need.

Strength and faith.

.

The End


End file.
